Views from Sunfall - The Blog of Peter Giglio

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Movies. They’re a big part of my life. My personal DVD and
BluRay collection contains more than 2,000 titles. Very few of them, however,
were made in the last decade. This isn’t because I don’t want to love
everything I see. It’s because I can’t. Frankly, most of the films I’ve seen in
the last 10 years bore me to tears. There are always exceptions—six or seven
films that genuinely excite me each year.

2012 was different. The best year in cinema since 1999.
Some will undoubtedly disagree, and that’s cool. But I didn’t hallucinate
my enjoyment of the following films, and it’s my hope you’ll dig the spirit of this list.

Full disclosure: I am not, nor do I wish to be, a film critic.
I don’t discuss film by way of synopsis. Sometimes I have a lot to say and
other times I find it hard to articulate how and why art moves me. I’m not interested
in analyzing what I love. I just know it when I see it.

#1 – CLOUD ATLAS

I love creation, and that’s what Cloud Atlas is. Though this film hasn’t received the wide acclaim it
deserves, I believe it will stand the test of time. Any blemish here is the product of ambition. This is art reaching far. And connecting!
Visually stunning. Emotionally moving. And transformative. The century’s best
film thus far.

#2 – ARGO

Ben Affleck. Damn, that man can direct! I saw Argo on its second day at a small
theater in the Midwest. When it ended, people applauded. We’re not talking
about an audience of fanboys who'd just watched their favorite comic book
hero set to live action; rather, they came to see a film about the US
government’s odd (but true) mission to rescue six Americans from Iran in 1979.
Did I mention that everyone applauded?!? In my experience, that just doesn’t
happen as a matter of routine. But Argo isn't the norm. It's a masterpiece. In just about
any other year this would have been my favorite. In fact, Argo isn’t just my second favorite film
of 2012, it’s my second favorite of the last decade. It manages to be suspenseful
though we know what’s going to happen, and the Hollywood stuff is hilarious.

#3 – SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK

My general distaste for romantic comedies isn’t rooted in cynicism.
I love to love and I love to laugh. But most rom-coms are lame as hell, neither
funny nor believable. Here we have David O. Russell’s brilliant Silver Linings Playbook, a film with a
rare internal awareness about mental illness and the hard fought road to a second
chance. What you won’t find are a series of pratfalls resulting inexplicably in
happily ever after, though you will find a film that’s incredibly cognizant when
it comes to clichés. Rather than avoid them, Russell does something more
interesting—he plows through them with unbelievable grace, placing the focus
where it belongs: the characters. You’ll hear everyone praise Jennifer Lawrence
for her performance, and for good reason, but Bradley Cooper, Robert De Niro, Jacki
Weaver, Chris Tucker, and Anupam Kher are all outstanding. I truly loved every
frame of this perfect film.

#4 – DJANGO UNCHAINED

It
could be said that Quentin Tarantino has been telling the same story since the
first Kill Bill, trying
like hell to make the perfect revenge film. I, for one, hope he does something
new next time, but that doesn't mean I don't love Django Unchained. Reservoir
Dogs is QT's paciest film and Pulp
Fiction is his coolest and Jackie
Brown is his most mature. But what we have here, in my humble
estimation, is his best film.
Some have knocked the violence, others have criticized the film's unflinching
and direct approach to exposing racism, and a few have cited problems with the
motivations of characters (particularly Dr. King Schultz, played by Christoph
Waltz). Go figure, QT didn't make this film in the vacuum of political correctness,
and he didn’t feel the need to spell out a complex character’s thought process
when he could show us the man’s odd internal logic through action. Why are some so shocked? Are they just now tuning in? Fact is, most people get it, and Django Unchained has done very well. Now QT can do something new? Again, hope so.

#5 – ZERO DARK THIRTY

Zero Dark Thirty
is a challenging and exhausting film. It’s also a major achievement, despite
the controversy surrounding its accuracy. Jessica Chastain’s performance is the
finest of the year, and it’s the best thing about an enterprise that clearly isn’t
seeking to entertain. That aside, Zero
Dark Thirty is a compelling and indispensable government/military procedural
that examines obsessive determination in the face of bureaucratic incompetence
and indifference. Does the film justify torture? Not in my mind. Most of us
have no firsthand experience when it comes to the horrors and politics of war.
This is a glimpse into that dark abyss, and it’s also a mirror. This is who we
are, it says. This is what we do. Even if Bigelow (director) and Boal (screenwriter)
are guilty of connecting dots erroneously, they nailed the tone and mood. And
they made a great film.

#6 – SKYFALL

I’m a Bond nut. I grew up with 007 and have watched all of
the Bond films (with few exceptions) hundreds of times. I disliked 2008’s Quantum of Solace (one of the worst in
the series), but I love Skyfall. ‘Nuff
said.

#7 – LOOPER

Simply put, Looper
is cool. But it has plot holes, you say. Fair enough. Now show me a time travel
thriller without a few plot problems and I’ll introduce you to Santa Claus. The
focus here is on the characters, which is probably why I didn’t see the logic
gaps on first viewing. That’s right, plot isn’t king in Looper. How utterly refreshing for a sci-fi thriller set in
a dystopian future where the mob uses time travel to dump bodies. Joseph Gordon-Levitt
and Bruce Willis turn in terrific performances, but child actor Pierce Gagnon,
who plays Cid, steals the show.

#8 – MOONRISE KINGDOM

Sometimes I love Wes Anderson’s films (Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums), other times not (Bottle Rocket, The Life Aquatic with Steve
Zissou). Moonrise Kingdom fits somewhere in the better half of Anderson’s oeuvre.
What we have here is a charming and funny fairytale that's beautifully rendered. I
loved it.

#9 – KILLING THEM SOFTLY

Killing Them Softly
is a smart anti-thriller that explores the modern economic collapse through
the lens of organized crime. The snappy dialogue is worthy of William Goldman in
his prime. The film’s sole flaw is its heavy-handed use of radio and television
footage to clarify its point. That aside, Killing
Them Softly is a profound work of art.

#10 – KILLER JOE

Killer Joe is a
sick, depraved flick. It’s also William Friedkin’s best since 1985’s To Live and Die in L.A. I’ll never look
at “K Fried C” the same way again. Or the song “Strokin’.”

Honorable Mentions: The Master, Seeking
a Friend for the End of the World, The
Dark Knight Rises, The Hunger Games,
Seven Psychopaths, Lincoln, The Avengers

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

I still can't get over what an amazing year 2012 has been for me. I'm extremely grateful to everyone who has purchased my work, and for all the kind words and encouragement I've received along the way. 2012 saw the publication of two of my novels, two novellas, and two anthologies I edited. I made 2 professional fiction sales and had the honor of working as the editor of three remarkable novels: Inheritance by Joe McKinney, Seraphim by Jon Michael Kelley, and The Quarry by Mark Allan Gunnells. I also oversaw the production of more than a dozen fine books from Evil Jester Press, with a range of duties, including graphic design, formatting, proof-reading, contract negotiations, slush pile warrior, etc. What a year! I don't know if I can match that pace in 2013, or even if I should try, but I do know I'm in a far better place than I was in 2011, and I'm grateful to so many people. I can think of no more fitting way to express that gratitude than to turn my blog over to 8 talented writers, all of whom have stories in Evil Jester Digest, Vol. 2, one of the projects I alluded to above. Working with these folks, and so many others, has been a special gift. So it is only fitting that I give a gift (courtesy of Evil Jester Press) to those of you reading my blog. Here it is...

Included are 12 dark tales from masters and rising stars of genre fiction. It is our hope that you enjoy the book. Of course, Amazon and Goodreads reviews are appreciated, as well as good old-fashioned word of mouth. But the most important thing is that you know how much we appreciate your consideration.

Without further ado, I would now like to turn the stage over to eight of the anthology's esteemed contributors. They have a few words to share about their stories.

Eric J. Guignard…

I try to write non-familiar monster trope
pieces, but occasionally I like to slip back into the warm comfort of my
favorite traditional horror genre: Zombies. The writing industry is
glutted with zombie fiction, and I didn’t want to put out another gore-filled
undead slasher. I wrote my story, “A Curse and a Kiss” with zombies taking more
of an incidental or background role. The story itself is a variation of the
fairytale “Beauty and the Beast,” told through the eyes of a servant. I have
always been a lifelong fan of Grimms' Fairy Tales and Aesop's Fables. The
original telling of “Beauty and the Beast” is much darker than the
“Disney-fied” version, and I wanted to bring the story back to its original
tone and message, though I changed the curse placed on the Prince to becoming
transformed into the “Living Dead” rather than an animalistic beast.

(above) Eric J. Guignard and Gene O'Neill at KillerCon 2012

Gene O’Neill…

"Coyote Gambit" is the earliest of the Cal Wild stories. The series actually begins rolling with the introduction of the character, Karch, who is nicknamed the Armless Conductor. But this part of the series is actually quite along in time after The Collapse. So a novel down the road, The Confessions of St. Zach, will begin right after The Collapse and develop the early part of the series. But "Coyote Gambit" is the only immediate short story. The series really took form after I decided that we needed a modern argument of the philosophy underlying McCarthy's fine novel The Road. I like the book but don't agree with the writer's view of human nature in crisis. Cal Wild books and stories support my view of human nature. But "Coyote Gambit," especially the gruesome implication of the ending, is closer the harder edged view of The Road than my more humanistic beliefs. It's not a story for the faint hearted.

Mark Allan Gunnells...

Let's face it, we're all addicted to technology. I certainly am. However, I also grew up in a time when no one had cell phones, there was no texting, no Facebook, no Instant Messaging. Therefore, as much as I love technology, I also feel I could live without it if I had to. However, when I look at young people today, kids that were born "plugged in" as it were, I wonder...could they survive if their technology was taken away? I decided I wanted to explore this in a story, and satire seemed the best way to go. Taking the idea and stretching it to an extreme and absurd to get my point across. I was happy with the result, hopefully readers will like it as well.

(above) Mark Allan Gunnells, indulging his sweet tooth at any cost

Trent Zelazny…

Trent has two terrific stories in Evil Jester Digest, Vol. 2...

Slink:
Though in a contemporary setting, this was an attempt to write a story that
might have hopefully been accepted and published by Black Mask, maybe in the
forties, at some point before its decline and eventual demise.

Windows in the Wreckage:
The story came to me after having a dream about being stranded in the woods. As
I’m not a big camper or hiker these days, I asked myself, “How in the world
would I get stranded in the woods? What would take me there, and what,
in my own reality, would be something horribleI'd be terrified I might have
to face?”

(left)The great Trent Zelazny ensconced in kitties!

Holly Newstein…

"Kristall Tag" had its
genesis in what I learned about the fall of Berlin and the invading Russian
Army.

Berlin, when the Russians took it, was a city of women and children.
The Russian soldiers were capable of great kindness—and terrible savagery. All
Germans were tainted with Hitler's evil, even those who had no choice in the
matter. The Russians wanted revenge for what the Nazi Army did to their
countrymen. I wanted to explore the journey of one innocent in this maelstrom
of death and brutality, and how her actions reverberated across the rest of her
life. And because I am a horror writer as well as a history geek, there had to
be a touch of the supernatural involved...

(above) Holly Newstein Hautala, Rick Hautala, and Peter Giglio

at World Horror 2012

Jon Michael Kelley…

“The Tardy Hand of Miss Tangerine” was inspired by a tattoo proclaiming
an apocalyptic date that has, coincidentally enough, just passed. A few years
ago, I’d been dragged to my first metaphysical fair, and it was there that I
was introduced to the wearer of that prescient ink. She was a young woman,
strikingly plain, who looked more like Beatrix Potter than she didHelena Blavatsky.That was, until I saw
that final Mayan calendar date running along the length of her lower right arm.
At first glance, I’d initially thought it was a Bible verse. Silly me. You see,
she was giving a rather expensive reading to my companion, so I had the
opportunity to look again—and I then realized what that proverb was actually
proclaiming. I passed on the Tarots, having by then decided that my money might
be best spent buying freeze dried food, bottled water, and the blueprints to a
bomb shelter made for two. Then a story started forming…

(above) Jon Michael Kelley at AnthoCon 2012

John Palisano…

What if there were a major outbreak happening
in our sister country Mexico? How would we guard our borders? With what? Would
we help, or just protect our own interests?
And if said outbreak had fangs, then what?
One young man discovers the illegal alien task force he's joined is just a
cover, and that the border fence being constructed is crucial rather than just
misguided patriotism.
With "VAMPIRO," playing with themes of xenophobia and self-loathing
seemed interesting. Some have indicted the story as a simple comment that
illegals are vampires. Take a bigger bite. There's more under the thin,
translucent skin.

(above) John Palisano, Brad C. Hodson, Peter Giglio, and Eric Shapiro

at Dark Delicacies in Burbank, California. Should we start a band?

Simon McCaffery…

The genesis of "Vanishing Act" was an article I read
in the mid-1990s about poor deluded Sarah Winchester and her bizarre Mystery
House. Writers are almost always voracious readers, and there's an unconscious
filter that is always sifting through everything for the kernel of a new tale,
like a whale sucking in thousands of gallons of seawater for specks of
zooplankton. (below)Simon McCaffery, working on his tan.

I was fascinated by the true story of an educated, wealthy, devout
young woman whose mind is stripped and driven to such extremes by grief and a
fear of the afterlife. I knew I wanted to weave it into a story, and I made a
couple of poor attempts, but eventually set it aside. The vivid story of Sarah
and her mad, marvelous house of many doors remained in my imagination. I also
had toyed with a potential novella or novel about a desperate father searching
for a vanished son, and the idea of certain very rare individuals capable of
conjuring unseen doorways between worlds, driven by an intense desire to escape
from unhappy lives or relentless will to be reunited with the lost. And these
ideas finally collided, with the resulting story.I'm thrilled that
it worked for Peter and the Evil Jester Press crew, and proud to appear among
so many talented writers I admire. The human heart is a funny thing, and fear
and obsession can lodge there and grow like dark cancers. And how many doors do
we open and pass through in a lifetime, without a second thought?

Saturday, December 22, 2012

After selling my first story to a professional anthology, I said to myself, “Man, this
being-a-writer thing isn’t so tough!”

I was wrong. Oh, how I was wrong!

Not only did I have a hard time finding
inspiration in the ensuing months, I found it even harder to sell the few
stories I did write. I was frustrated. Having learned a few things about the
biz now I see what a baby I was being. But in that moment, I was sure my first
fiction sale had been a fluke and that I would never publish another word.

During this time I wrote a short story that I
liked—that I still like—about a strange creature who encounters a young girl
held captive in a cellar. It was called “Reaching for the Light.” And the title
expressed exactly how I felt.

It didn’t sell.

But, for some reason, I couldn’t shake the image
of the girl in the cellar. I wanted to do something different with this cliché
and thought there was a deeper story to be told than the ones I’d read or seen
in movies.

Sometime later I started writing a story aimed
at Robert Essig’s Through the Eyes of the
Undead II. And I did something that I was pretty sure hadn’t been done
before; I made the girl in the cellar a zombie.

The story was called “Half Life” originally and,
for the most part, it's the finale of what would later become Balance.

And, damn, I was proud of that story.

In fact, I loved it!

So I sent it off to every friend I could think of
who might want to read it. And many of them did.

It got a flurry of great responses, but with one
consistent bit of criticism.

It needed to be longer. Everyone wanted to know
what The Blast was. And everyone wanted to know more about the human
relationships in the tale.

I was just glad they liked the story, so I sent
it off to Robert. And he liked it, too. It looked like my short story might be accepted and my dry spell would come to an end.

But in the weeks that followed, the feedback I
had received from trusted friends rang through my head.

So I pulled up the story. Reread it a dozen
times.

Damn it...

They’d all been right.

So I expanded “Half Life” into a novella called The Blast, pulled my story from Robert’s
short-list, worried I’d lost my mind, and sent the new draft to Eric Shapiro,
the most trusted of my readers and the person who’d given “Half Life” the
biggest thumbs up. Eric was surely going to love this new, expanded version of
a story he’d praised. I was on my way to becoming the master of the macabre... Delusions bloomed eternal on that day, my friends.

A few days later, I opened an email from Eric. I
was excited and couldn’t wait to hear how great I was.

I read his email and my jaw dropped.

He didn’t think The Blast was so hot. He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t think it
would resonate with readers or, for that matter, be published at all.

Though surprised, I made one of the best moves of
my life. And writers, whether you’re just starting out or have been doing this
for decades, this is what we all need to do in these situations. Every time!

I asked him what was wrong with it. I asked him
for details. I asked for help.

And he gave me what I asked for. And then his
wonderful wife, Rhoda, read an improved version of the story and she gave me
even more feedback.

So I fixed the story. And then I fixed it some
more. Then…Well, you get the idea. I just kept fixing it until everyone—and by
everyone I mean Eric and Rhoda (two of the most wonderful people on
the planet)—loved it!

Then Eric gave me one last piece of advice. He
told me The Blast sucked as a title.
I asked him how bad it sucked, and he told me it sucked big. Really big!

I love my honest friends. If you’re one of those
friends who tells me what I want to hear, stop now! Unless I look really
needy at the moment, if you want me to love you more, tell me what you really
think.

I came up with Balance. And the moment that title entered my mind, I knew I had
it. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? I now can’t imagine this story ever
being called anything else, but when you’re really close to something, it’s
easy to be blind.

Eric and Rhoda agreed with the title.

And so Balance
was born.

Special thanks go to Eric Shapiro and Rhoda
Jordan. They’re busy people—making movies, writing books, building a family—and
they certainly didn’t have to take time out to help me. But they did. And I’m
forever in their debt.

I learned a lot working with them. I learned to
give a little more.

I sold Balance to an epublisher in early 2011. The eBook is still with them, but they didn't buy print rights. In early 2012 the paperback edition was released with Evil Jester Press. Though the few people who have read this novella have given it its share of praise, the book has never found a wide audience. It is, in fact, my worst selling title. Though I'm not known as one who writes a lot of zombie fiction, I found that surprising for a long time.

Then I took a look at the cover. Really looked at it. Hard.

And I remembered what Eric told me about my original title.

That title sucked, and so did the cover on the paperback edition of Balance.

So Balance just got a facelift. At least the paperback did. Much as I'd like this cover to be on the eBook (I do love it), I have no control over that.

One more thing: The paperback contains an introduction by Eric Shapiro and "Reaching for the Light" is included as a bonus story. You won't find these things in the eBook.

You can purchase the paperback of Balance at Amazon.com for only $8.95here.

Praise for Balance

"Balance is a grim and melancholy zombie story. Peter Giglio brings his A-game to this disturbing tale." - Jonathan Maberry, author of Dead of Night and Dust & Decay

"A harrowing new perspective on the apocalypse. Giglio goes for the heart as well as the jugular." - David Dunwoody, author of Empire and The Harvest Cycle

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Joe McKinney, Peter N. Dudar, and Yours Truly mounted a successful series of blog posts back in September called "Blogging the Ghost." We talked about our new paranormal horror titles, shared free stories, gave away some prizes, and invited some pretty cool folks along for the ride.

Now we're back, sharing essays about the writing life, wishing you all a safe and warm holiday season...and we even brought some presents!

If you missed our previous posts, please check them out at the following links:

We hope you enjoy these titles. And for the many folks who supported our efforts in 2012, thank you.

Why I Write the
Dark Stuff

By Joe McKinney

In
my day job I’m a patrol supervisor for the San Antonio Police Department,
working the west side of town.The
police officers who make the calls, who make the arrests, who keep the peace in
the busiest part of the city, they work for me.I’m the one they call when they have crime scenes that need managing, or
when something just doesn’t look right.

What
that means is that I have to see a lot of dead bodies.And I mean a lot of them.

Like
last week.One of my officers called
because he had a decomp (police parlance for a body that’s been rotting in
place for a good long while) and he wasn’t sure if it was suicide or homicide.So I showed up to the apartment and there was
the dead guy, seated on the floor (or almost
on the floor; his butt was about two inches off the carpet).He had a noose around his neck, though you
could barely see it because his skin was so bloated and gummy with rot that it had
sort of oozed over the rope.

“So,
what do you think?” the officer asked.

“Suicide,”
I told him.

“But
he’s sitting down.Wouldn’t he have
rolled over or something when he started to choke?That’s like an instinct or something, isn’t
it?”

“No,”
I said.“What you’re looking at is an
act of will power.If you want to do
something bad enough, you’ll see it through.”

He
looked from me to the body and shook his head.

“Besides,”
I added, “look at all that medication in there in his bathroom.Those drugs are for hepatitis and
cancer.He did this because he was
hurting pretty bad.And look up
there.”I pointed to the ceiling where
our dead guy had nailed the rope to the rafter.“He did that because he didn’t want the rope to slip off.And look at where he chose to do this, here
in the bedroom, so his relatives coming in the front door wouldn’t have to see
him.I bet if you look around here
you’ll find a note.Probably in the
other room, out of sight of the bedroom.”

The
officer nodded.

We
both stood there, staring at the body.The apartment didn’t have air conditioning, and it felt like standing
inside an oven, even though it was the middle of the night.The smell was really bad.

The
officer kind of chuckled and said, “So Sarge, I guess this is one for your next
book, huh?”

I
offered him a bland smile.Cops develop
their gallows humor long before they learn that it’s actually a defense mechanism
against the horror of confronting your own mortality, and this officer was one
of the young ones.He still had a lot to
learn.

“Go
look for the note,” I said.

“Yes,
sir.”

When
he was gone I found myself looking into that suicide’s face and sighing.The suicides always get to me. Something
about standing in the presence of someone so desperate to take control of their
pain and their emotional devastation that they would resort to this makes me
feel numb.

In
the other room, the young officer was clumsily knocking around.Something fell over and broke.I almost called out to him to be careful, but
held my tongue.You see, my mind had
drifted from my day job to my night job.I was thinking about what he’d said about my next book.So many people seem to have that opinion
about horror, and about zombie fiction in particular.To them, a book about shambling dead things
eating the living must be nothing but gratuitous violence and gore.What else could it be?

Well,
I take exception to that.

I
started writing because I was scared of the future.My wife and I had just gotten married.Then we had a daughter, and the world
suddenly seemed so much more complex.In
the wink of an eye, I went from a carefree young cop – a lot like the one in
the other room knocking stuff over – to a man with more responsibilities than
he could count.I had obligations and
commitments coming at me from every angle.

I’d
been writing stories for a good long while at that point, starting sometime in
my early teens, but never with the intention of doing anything about them.I would write them out on a yellow legal pad,
staple the finished pages together, and leave them on the corner of my desk
until the next idea came to me.

Never
once did it occur to me to do something with what I’d written.I just threw those stories away and forgot
them.But then came adulthood, and
parenthood, and I found myself groping to put the world in order, to regain
some of the control I felt I had lost.I
realized that writing could help me with that.I realized that I could focus my anxieties and make something useful of
them.

And
so I started writing a science fiction novel.It was a big space opera epic, and it was pure trash.Every word of it was awful.

The
reason?Well, it wasn’t authentic.It wasn’t me.

The
real me, the kid who sat at his desk filling up yellow legal pads rather than
going out bike riding with his friends, was a horror junkie.I was crazy for the stuff.Horror was my first literary love, and I
figured seeing as love was what drove me to return to writing that I should
write what I love. I was feeling like the world was rushing at me from every
side, so I wrote a zombie story about characters who had the living dead
rushing in at them from every side.That’s when things started to click.That’s when it all made sense.

But
it wasn’t just that simple.You see, I
sincerely believe that fear is the most authentic, and the most useful, emotion
available to the storyteller.It is as
vital as love, and indeed, gives love its profundity, for what makes love, and
family, and everything we treasure so valuable but the fear that it could all
be taken away in the blink of an eye.For
me, fear goes far beyond monsters.It is
the catalyst for my creative process, and without that creative process, I’m
afraid I would wither up inside.I’m not
saying I’d end up like that suicide I just told you about if I couldn’t write
anymore, nothing that melodramatic, but absence of that creative outlet would
be a hole that nothing else could fill.

So
that’s why I write the dark stuff.

In the Name of
Love

By Peter Giglio

“Why do you write horror?”

That’s a valid question, and one I’ve answered more times than I care to
count. I’ve prattled on endlessly about how horror fiction lends itself to
socially relevant metaphors, how being in tune with darkness can put one more
in touch with light, how horror is the perfect canvas on which to paint
conflict.

Blah, blah, blah…

What I’d rather explore (briefly, I promise) is why I write, and I’d also
like to offer my perspective on the fine line between genre fiction and general
fiction, that lauded non-brand that tells potential readers, “Hey, this work isn’t
pulp; you can read this without guilt, and it will make you feel smarter.”

Okay, I’m probably projecting a bit. I don’t know if it really says all that,
but it often feels like it. After all, Stephen King and Anne Rice and Dean
Koontz, though they write great genre fiction, don’t have to languish in such
confines. Their tomes aren’t branded horror; rather, they’re shelved as fiction
despite the recognizable tropes within their worlds. People who routinely say,
“I don’t read horror,” will frequently admit to reading King. That’s my experience,
at least.

Writers like King are essentially their own brand, and there’s nothing
wrong with that. Most of the time, they’ve earned the stature. King often tries
to shake his literary credentials off, but he isn’t fooling me. He worked hard
for his reputation, and I love his work deeply. Go, Steve! Go!

So I’m not here with sour grapes. In fact, I get pissed when people attack
success. Regardless of what you or I may think of work from James Patterson or
Stephanie Meyer, people read them, and any author who’s being honest will admit
to envying the audience these icons have captured. Captured? Wow, that makes the whole thing sound nefarious. I like
that. I also like that there are still examples of success in a crumbling
market. Glimmers of hope.

That said, I can report with all honesty that I don’t write for fame. I
laugh at friends and family members who call me famous. I’m not. Not even
close. Most of my heroes, in fact—my mentors, the people I aspire to—aren’t
even famous.

Strangers get this.

When I tell them I’m a writer,
the first question is usually, “What do you write?” If I reply, “Horror,”
they’ll often ask, “Like Stephen King?” and that just makes me want to test
them a little. “No,” I might say, “like Richard Laymon.” Or I’ll throw out some
other midlist name just to see if confusion sweeps their face.

And it does.

Fact is, midlist writers in any corner of genre fiction (though heroes to
devotees of that particular brand) don’t mean shit to the average person at
your local pub or bank or grocery store or…wherever you meet people. And if
you, like me, aspire to those midlist heroes who write from the heart and gut,
that realization can shatter your resolve.

Despite all that, I write because I respect the written word. I write
because I want to articulate my feelings through stories. I write because I
love the process of creation. I love what I learn about myself and the world
around me.

And, most importantly, I love good stories and storytellers.

My advice: Aspire to be what you love.

If you love money, go into banking. If you love stories, write. If you make
money writing, congratulations—you’re a professional. Just remember,
professionals in most fields aren’t wealthy or well-known. If you happen to
make big money doing it, you’re part of a rare and endangered breed: someone
who has their calls returned by Stephen King.

As a reader, I don’t care if your story is horror or romance or a thriller
or a literary coming-of-age tale; if it hooks me in the first page, I’ll read
more. If it holds me in its grip, I’ll recommend it to anyone willing to pay
attention. I don’t care if you have a contract with a Big Six publisher, a
small press, or if you self-publish (as long as you hire a good editor!).

A good story is a good story, and I enjoy building them the same way, I
assume, a skilled carpenter enjoys building a fine deck.

Genre is essentially a way of keeping all the shelves at a bookstore (and
the Amazon website) organized. It’s also a way of marketing: “If you like this,
you’ll enjoy this!” The business side of me gets this and respects it. But
that’s only half of me.

The reader and writer in me browses every section of a bookstore and every
corner of a website that sells books, ‘cause he just respects a good story.

That’s the side of me I love.

And that’s why I write.

Drinking from the
Poisoned Well

By Peter N. Dudar

A brief anecdote; one that I often like to
tell to illustrate the insanity of writing.

I began my writing career after I graduated
from college and moved to Maine.Those
first few years were a period of great fecundity for me, regardless of the fact
that most of the short stories I was producing were amateur at best, and at
worst downright shoddy and formulaic.And when that productive period ran out, I went through a horrible
period of writer’s block, which left me all but crippled.As time dragged by and nothing came out of me
after countless hours of staring at a blank computer screen, I decided that I
needed to do something.

I found a creative writing course through
Portland’s Adult Education program, and even though I’d graduated from college
a few years before with a bachelor’s degree, I felt that perhaps this would be
the skeleton key to unlock my chained and hidden muse.So I signed myself up and, just like that, I
found myself in an elementary school classroom on Tuesday evenings with a bunch
of other writers whom also yearned to express themselves with the written
word.

I’ll never forget that first class for as
long as I live.

I made my way in and examined the
room.All the desks inside had been
rearranged to form this great big circle, with the teacher’s desk front-and-center
astride the blackboard.Many people had
arrived before me and a lot of the desks were already filled, so I glanced
about and found an empty spot.As I sat
down I noticed my neighbor to my immediate left; a woman with crazy hair
subdued with colorful scarfs, a pair of eyeglasses with thick rims and leopard
skin-colored tipples, and necklaces with beads and jewels that weighed her
frame down like an anchor.I knew even
before I set my pen down and opened my notebook that sitting next to this
person was a bad idea.And I was right.

Our teacher came in and introduced herself,
and then asked us to go around the room and introduce ourselves and talk a
little bit about why we enjoy writing.

You can see where this is going, can’t
you?Sure, you can!

I listen to all the people around the
circle introduce themselves, each giving some informal speech about their
craft; some telling of the joy of simple things like journaling for historical
purposes, others finding delight in poetry or prose, or what have you.One lady mentioned how she started writing by
first making up bedtime stories for her kids, and then deciding to write them
down so that her kids could one day share them with their children.It’s
cool.But all the while, I’m looking at
this psychotic broad beside me, who has been wriggling and itching and dying
for it to be her turn.I’m suddenly sure
that I don’t want to follow this lady, that maybe I’ll just excuse myself and
run to the bathroom…and maybe even NOT come back.But I don’t.I bide my time.

And then it’s the crazy lady’s turn.

This woman stands up and introduces herself, and then embarks on this long
stream-of-consciousness tirade of how life has been so cruel to her, and that
she “writes herself sane” to keep her poor brain for revolting against
her.We get to hear every little misery
this woman has endured (who knows how many of them were fictitious?) and how
writing has saved her life, and blah-blah-blee-blah.By now half the class is wriggling and
itching with awkwardness and discomfort, and that’s including myself.I really don’t want to go next, and have to
follow up after crazy lady and how her five cats died in a fire and her twin
sister was raped by an orangutan in a freak zoo incident (okay, maybe I made
that last part up, but only because I’ve mentally blocked out her real stories
in my bid to rid her from my brain).

Finally, crazy lady sits down, and it’s my
turn.

“My name is Peter,” I begin.“I write because I enjoy making shit
up.”(The class chuckles) “I signed up
for this class mostly because I’m trying to work through writer’s block.I guess I just don’t have a lot of
difficulties in my life, or inner demons I need to face, which is probably a
good thing.I have to believe, though,
that if I did have a lot of problems,
I would be better suited if I went to the doctor and got some medication.”

More laughter…except from crazy lady, who
looks absolutely flabbergasted.I can
tell I’ve insulted her, but part of me really doesn’t care.I’ve created conflict, and conflict is good.It’s inspiring. For both of us.

Looking back now, I can see where I was
wrong in my behavior.I was young and
cocky back then, and I didn’t really know shit about having anxiety or coping
with the possibility of bad health or mental illness.And, of course, I can see now where the
notion of “writing oneself sane,” is possibly one of the sanest things a writer
could do.After all, writers deal with
telling lies, but those lies spring forth from truths that we all know and
experience.You can’t write perfectly
about a loved one dying until you stood next to their coffin and gazed at the
waxy remains of them, and realizing that the lifeless thing you are saying
goodbye to looks nothing like the
person you knew when they were still alive.You can’t write perfectly about love until you’ve had your heart broken,
when you can still smell the scent of your lover on your pillow as you lay your
head down to sleep at night, and then wake up sobbing in the morning because
you know she isn’t coming back. Then,
when you put these experiences into words, someone who has also suffered can
read them and find empathy.They can
make that connection.

Writers are haunted people.We’re held prisoner by the voices of stories
that want to be written.We’re slaves to
an inner thirst for information and experience just so we can find the right
words to tell our stories.And for the
horror writer, this information and experience we thirst for is not glamorous
or pretty, and by no means is it safe.The well we drink from has poisoned water.One needs to look no further than Edgar Allan
Poe to see how his mastery at storytelling is precluded by his own personal
miseries.

And what of the “ghost writer?”What of those folks (present company
included) who long to pen the perfect ghost story?What are the experiences they seek out to
gain knowledge and find the right words?

I think for each of us, it begins with the
notion of an afterlife; what awaits us when we die?Ghosts are the spiritual remnants of a human
being whose body is no longer alive and whose soul no longer has a vessel to
travel in.Which begs next these three
logical questions:1) Where is the soul supposed to go?2)What is holding the soul captive, so that it can’t or won’t move
on?And 3) How are we, the living, to
deal with the ghost when we encounter it?

The spiritual part of us (at least in our
minds), looks to religion and philosophy to begin sorting these concepts out
and come to our own unique belief system.The rational part of us seeks books or articles or essays about the act
of dying and how the body shuts down.But
the writer in us…how far are we willing to go?

Here’s the Bucket List for the ghost
writer:

Attend a séance. Be present at the death of a loved one.Spend a night in a haunted house/hotel/mental
institution.Take photographs in a
cemetery.Take video/audio recordings of
supernatural activities.Leave
flour/powder on the floor to capture ghost prints.Play with a(n) Ouija board.Take mind-altering substances to try and
commune with the dead.Dress in dead people’s
clothing or procure their personal belongings.Build a shrine or altar for the dead.Have a Tarot or psychic reading performed.Visit historical places where mass murders or
suicides occurred. Visit the graves of horror authors.Learn about local folklore and urban
legends.Place ourselves in instances of
mortal danger.And, above all, read more
ghost stories.

As I’ve said, the well we drink from is
poisoned.We seek to fill our minds with
dark thoughts and notions.I think this
is probably why horror writers are also some of the nicest, friendliest people
you will ever meet.It’s because we know
how to value and celebrate life.It’s
because we know how to “write ourselves sane.”

About Me

Peter Giglio, an active member of the HWA, is the author of three novels -- ANON, BEYOND ANON, and THE DARK (with Scott Bradley) -- three novellas -- A SPARK IN THE DARKNESS, BALANCE, and SUNFALL MANOR -- and several short stories. He is also the co-author (with Scott Bradley) of the screen adaptation for Joe R. Lansdale's "The Night They Missed the Horror Show."